


I’m Just a Ghost out of His Grave.

by Uno_45



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Azula (Avatar) Redemption, Badass Sokka (Avatar), Blue Spirit Zuko (Avatar), Eventual Fluff, F/F, F/M, Hakoda (Avatar) is a Good Parent, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Slow Burn, Sokka and Zuko don’t get along at first, Sokka is a Bisexual Disaster, Two halves of one idiot, Ursa (Avatar) is a Good Parent, Zuko is a gay disaster, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, maybe smut, sokka is baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:01:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26424535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uno_45/pseuds/Uno_45
Summary: On the day of the raid that took Sokka and Kataras mother from them, Sokka runs onto one of the Fire Nation ships to escape from a soldier trying to kill him. He only plans to hide for a moment but yet another thing goes wrong and before he knows it the ship is already sailing away from the tribes shores- with him on it.Or-After an unfortunate accident sokka finds himself alone in the Fire Nation believing his tribe is in ruins and his family is dead. Thinking he has no home to return to Sokka stays in the Fire Nation and gets close with people he never thought he would.DISCONTINUED- i dropped my ATLA fixation some time ago, and because of that i don't really feel like finishing this story, but who knows, if i ever get back into Avatar maybe i will, sorry :(
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Azula/Therapy, Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar), Sokka & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	1. Lost to the Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:
> 
> This is my first time writing a fanfic and it’s a little bit of an experiment so posting may be a tad inconsistent and there will probably be quite a few mistakes, as I do not have a beta tester, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless! Please feel free to comment if you find a mistake or if you have any commentary!

Sokka let out a yelp as cold snow fell on his head and down the back of his parka. He stood there frozen for a good moment, while Katara doubled over with laughter a few feet away. 

“Katara!” Sokka snapped through chattering teeth, “I thought we agreed on no freaky magic water” He whined, as he shrugged off his coat to shake the snow out of it. Doing that, to Sokkas annoyance, only fueled Kataras laughter further. However Sokka was too busy dusting the last bits of snow from his body to notice Kataras laughter immediately quite down. In fact, he only realized something was wrong when he had gathered a ball of snow and turned to throw it at his sister. He lowered his arm when he saw that she was now facing away from him, looking out at the ocean.

“Katara..?” He asked, walking up behind her, the snowball fight a distant memory all of the sudden. As soon as he got to her side he could see she was holding her hands out, catching the snow as it fell. The black snow. Sokka froze. He knew what the black snow meant, but he wished he didn’t at the moment. When he looked out at the ocean his body got impossibly colder, the feeling of snow down his parka paled in comparison. There were three Fire Nation ships quickly drawing closer to the tribes shores. Sokka could feel Katara begin tomorrow tremble as he reached over to lay an arm on her shoulder, although he couldn’t tell wether he did so to comfort her or to stable himself. 

Suddenly Katara shifted and shoved  
Sokka’s arm off, causing him to stagger a bit. 

“I’m going to check on mom,” She said, voice shaking, and then ran off towards the villages huts before sokka could stop her. Sokka stood there for a moment longer, trying his hardest to force a single coherent thought into his brain, to no avail. He spun around attempting to make sense of what was happening, but he could only hear the muffled sounds of the battling beginning. Sokka blinked frantically and finally seemed to get a grasp on himself, he spun around once more and spotted a tribe members boomerang lying abandoned in the snow. He ran over to snatch it up and dashed towards the fighting. He could vaguely see his dad closer to the ship on the left, the other warriors spread out around him fighting more soldiers then they could take on. 

All his courage slowly seeped away as he saw the fire, he could smell the burning and it made him want to gag. These fires were nothing like the fire in his families hut, those fires were warm and comforting, smells of dinner and sounds of laughter always accompanied them. These ones were anything but comforting. They were accompanied by pained cries and smells of burning flesh. The community fires he remembers were like being wrapped in warm furs and hugs. The Fire benders flames made you want to crawl out of your skin just to get away from the heat. A feeling he had never had the misfortune of feeling, until now.

Sokka felt the prickling heat of the blast before he even noticed the fire bender behind him. He had only a moment to react, swerving out of the way just quick enough that the fire blast missed his back, but not enough to get out completely unscathed. He dropped the boomerang in his hand and reached over to grasp his arm where the fire hit him, crying out in pain. Sokka stumbled backwards into the snow as he turned around to face his attacker. The soldier smiled wickedly under his helmet and brought his hand up to throw another blast at Sokka, but Sokka was was quicker. He snatched the boomerang from where he dropped it on the ground and threw it as hard as he could from his position in the snow. It wasn’t a proper throw and the boomerang wouldn’t do any permanent damage, but it surprised the soldier enough to send him stumbling backwards. 

“You little shit,” the soldier spat as Sokka took the opportunity to jump up, grab the boomerang, and dash in no particular direction. Although he only managed to get a few feet before the soldier recovered and ran after him, seething with anger. Sokka looked around as he ran, tears streaming freely down his face, he knew he wouldn’t be able to make it far before the soldier caught up to him but he couldn’t see any of his tribes warriors, he could see no familiarity in the sea of red armor and scorching flames. No one was there to help him and he was running out of time. Sokka tightened his grip on the boomerang and made the decision to turn a sharp left, running towards the Fire Nation ships. No one was guarding the planks that lead to the ship decks so Sokka had no problem scrambling up onto the ship. However the soldier chasing him followed him, effectively cornering Sokka on the unfamiliar ship, so without much time to think Sokka ran towards the stairs that led below deck, dodging the fire blasts that occasionally came his way. 

Once below deck he could hardly see, the ships hallways were dark and hard to navigate and Sokka ran through them blindly. Luckily enough the darkness of the hallways and his speed seemed to be the one thing he had going for him at the moment, because Sokka lost the soldier chasing him, but he knew better than to keep wandering around and risk running into him again. So Sokka searched frantically for a room he could hide in, and after a moment he found a closet filled with crates and a small window on the back wall. Sokka slipped inside and sank to the ground in the corner, taking a shaky breath and closing his eyes. With the adrenaline from being chased dying down he could feel the burn on his arm ten times worse than before and he knew he had to do something. He didn’t know what though, Gran Gran and his mother had taught him plenty about treating frostbite and animal bites, but he knew nothing about what to do about a burn. Just the thought of his mom made him tremble worse, he just wanted her to be there with him. Heck, he’d even be glad to have Katara with him, even if she could be a pain, she would at least be a familiar face. Sokka sniffled and pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his uninjured arm around them as tears dampened his cheeks. Sokka sat there for only a minute or two before he was shaken out of his dazed state by shouting and foot steps above his head, way more footsteps than just one soldier. Before he could even react to the footsteps, he heard a loud noise, which were the ships engines (but he didn’t really know that), and he felt the ship lurch below him. Panic shot through Sokka and he sat up from his spot in the corner, swaying lightly. He ran to the window on the back wall and groaned when he realized he was far too short to see anything of worth. One look around the room and he saw a few crates not far from the window, they would have to do. He darted over to one of the stacks and positioned himself behind them, pushing back against them as hard as he could. He froze immediately when the crates made a jarring scraping noise as they moved. Sokka sucked in a breath and looked around, making sure no one was coming for him, before collapsing by the box. Sokka groaned in frustration and hopped up once again, deciding that the crates were already close enough to be able to see something from the window. He scrambled up on top of them and leaned over to look through the window. Sokka knew from the sounds of what he assumed to be the engine and the sway of the sea that the ship had set sail, but seeing his village slowly grow smaller and smaller with his own eyes was too much. Sokkas foot slipped as he stepped backwards and he crashed downwards, hitting the ground hard. He gasped, the air was pulled from his lungs and his head throbbed violently. He lay there stunned, and blinked slowly up at the ceiling, fighting to keep his eyes open at all. However that proved to be harder than he thought and the last thing he remembered was reaching out to grab the boomerang, the only familiar thing he had left, and holding onto it tightly.

When Sokka came to his head felt like it was splitting in two and all he wanted to do was curl into himself. He only managed to raise his head from the floor a few inches before dropping it back down, listening to the comforting sounds of water crashing against the side of a ship. He let the soft sounds lull him back into unconsciousness. The next time Sokka woke, he woke up to muffled shouting and clanging footsteps from above him. He dragged himself up from his position on the floor and looked around, confused on why he was in so much pain, but when he finally took in the room completely he remembered. Sokka blinked quickly, trying to push the growing panic down, and failing. He clumsily got to his feet and resumed his position on the crates near the window only to see ocean at first, but when he squinted he could see islands. Sokka’s breath hitched as he watched the islands creep closer. Right, he was headed for the Fire Nation. Completely and utterly Alone. His hands shook uncontrollably and his breath came in short gasps. Sokka crawled off the crates and resumed his position in the corner, the tears that had only just sprung up quickly becoming silent sobs as he desperately tried to calm himself just like his mom taught him. One deep breath in, one deep breath out, and repeat. However just thinking about his mom and family made it worse. Did they know Sokka was gone? Were they even trying to find him? His head quickly filled with thoughts he’d rather not have, but eventually Sokka managed to calm himself enough to think clearly, and he got up to assess his situation. Sokka knew he still had the burn on his arm and he still felt the constant throbbing on the back of his head, but he was much more concerned with getting out of there, if he was found it would be a lot easier to escape literally anywhere other than the tiny closet he was inhabiting.

Sokka grabbed his boomerang from where it was lying on the floor and inched over to the door, putting his ear up to it, as he strained to hear anything from the other side. Once he was sure there was no one in the hallway he cracked the door just a tad and listened a few moments more, just to be safe. Finally he stuck his head out and looked down the hallway in both directions. Satisfied that he wouldn’t be caught immediately after leaving the closet Sokka moved to stand in the middle of the hallway. The hallway looked much bigger and way more intimidating than it had yesterday- (was it even yesterday that he first boarded the ship? How long had he been out?) Regardless, he was beginning to panic again, realizing just how bad he had it. He was completely alone, an entire ocean separating Sokka and his family, and he just wanted his mom and dad, damn it. After standing there and collecting himself for a bit, he reminded himself he was a warrior, and he could totally do this.

Once he narrowly avoided yet another panic he stuffed his boomerang into his parka and looked around once more to decide where he should go. After a short debate he concluded that the left side of the hallway looked most familiar, so left he would go. He walked for a little way, listening carefully as he went, until he came across another window. This one was positioned just high enough that if Sokka stood on his toes he could see out if it, and he did not like what he saw. Despite only about twenty minutes having passed since he looked out of the window in the closet, the tiny dot of an island was now far too close for comfort. With a start, Sokka realized that the ship was docking and soon enough he would be alone, injured, and in the heart of the Fire Nation. Sokka shook his head violently, trying to clear his head before being rudely reminded of his head injury. He stumbled away from the window and pushed himself to continue down the hallway. Luckily enough left was the right way to go, and he came across stairs that he presumed went up to the deck. The only problem? Sokka could clearly hear voices floating down the stairs from the deck. Keeping that in mind, sokka carefully crawled up the stairs to get a peek at what was going on without getting caught. He poked his head over the top step and got a good look at the majority of the deck, he could see the backs of what must be the entire crew facing him, although he couldn’t yet see who was taking. After a quick glance around Sokka saw a stack of crates and barrels just a few feet away from his spot. He looked from the crates to the crew members once more, then exhaled heavily and hopped up from his spot, making a mad dash for the cover of the crates. Once he got behind them he sat deathly still, the sound of his heartbeat drowning out everything else for the moment. Until he heard something that shook him out of his daze-

“...Yes Fire Lord Ozai, the water bender was taken care of quickly and efficiently, I assure you.” Sokka heard some man say, he had to stifle a gasp, or a sob- he couldn’t quite tell. No- they had gotten Katara. 

“We looted the village for anything of use,” the man continued, “We even took out their chief and his daughter for good measure.” The man was lying, only trying to make himself look better to the Fire Lord- (it wasn’t like Ozai was going to go to the Southern Water Tribe to check) however Sokka had no way of knowing that, and the man sounded too smug, it made sokka sick. They took Katara, his parents, his home. Sokka couldn’t do it anymore, tears flowed down his cheeks and a loud sob threatened to escape him. He looked around frantically, Sokka knew he would give himself away, he needed to get out of there now. He ignored as the man continued to recall how he had “demolished” the tribe, and inched his way over to the railing of the ship. Sokka looked over it as best he could without leaving the safety of his cover, trying to decide if jumping over board would end badly. Ultimately he came to the conclusion that jumping over board and getting lost in the crowd would be a much better fate then getting caught by who ever the hell the “Fire Lord” was. 

So- without thinking too much of it, he heaved himself up and over the railing, slapping his hands over his mouth to keep from screaming as he free fell off the side of the ship onto the dock. Sokka hit the wood with a loud thunk and stars immediately filled his vision, pain shooting throughout him. He groaned loudly, tears falling from his eyes, as he sat up and looked around. He hoped to Tui and La no one from the deck heard him fall, and as he sat there bitting his tongue in order to stop himself from sobbing, it became apparent they did not in fact notice. Sokka took a deep breath, wincing as he shifted his arm. He pulled his parka sleeve up and stifled a cry of pain, great.. it was most likely broken, sprained at least. He shoved his sleeve back down and cradled his arm as he pushed himself to stand up. Sokka began walking down the dock, sticking very close to the ships side and keeping his head down as he sped towards the cover of the crowd.

He had nearly made it to the end of the dock when he ran right into someone, not having seen them due to the fact he was focusing on his feet to keep from collapsing. Sokka was quickly broken from his disoriented state and despite trying to stay quiet he cried out in pain as he fell backwards, hitting the dock. He mentally slapped himself and looked up at who he had run into, only to freeze immediately. The man towering above him was draped in deep burgundy robes, lined in shining gold and black lace. He was fairly short, with graying hair, and to Sokkas confusion, he had an unbothered smile on his face. He was so obviously Fire Nation, and it was even more apparent that he was some type of royalty, yet he smiled down at Sokka and offered a hand. Not to burn him, or hit him, but to help him up. Sokka gawked at the mans outstretched hand and stuttered a bit, scooting back quickly.

“You are not from around here, are you boy?” The man asked, his tone was not accusing, but amused. He eyed Sokka up and down, taking in his shocking blue clothing and out of place tan complexion, “Far from home, hmm?” He asked, a bit more doubt seeping into his voice, as Sokka continued to sit there silently. He wished desperately that he could curl into himself and disappear. The man shook his head and took a step towards Sokka, grasping his uninjured arm to help him up.  
However Sokka was obviously shaking and swayed dangerously to the side when the older mans hand left his arm, and his head pounded uncontrollably. Sokka’s poor state must have been apparent to the man because he returned his hand to Sokkas arm to steady him, and leaned down to look Sokka in the eye. When Sokka looked at the mans face once again he realized that his expression was now filled with an odd mix of concern and curiosity, instead of the earlier amusement.

“Do you speak, boy?” He asked and Sokka opened his mouth to respond, but he was overwhelmed with the pain that the simple movement brought. He gripped his head in his hands in an attempt to make the throbbing go away, before his eyes slipped close and he fell into darkness. The last thing he felt was two hands catching him before he could collapsed to the ground yet again.

Sokka had been in the Fire Nation for no more than a few hours and he was already unconscious and in someone else’s hands,,, this was off to a great start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep in mind that Sokka is only nine in this part of the story, he might act a little more mature then a nine year would in this situation- but I stand by the fact that Sokka was a smart kid and he more or less knew how to protect himself.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading!!


	2. I Made a Fist and Not a Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> believing that there is nothing left for him back at the Southern Water Tribe, Sokka stays in the Fire Nation for the time being.
> 
> (I’m not very good at summarizing—)

Truthfully Sokka didn’t remember much after the events of the previous day, he recalled feeling entirely too unsteady on his feet, then collapsing and being caught before he could hit his head for a second time. But apart from that, Sokka only vaguely remembered hearing small bits of conversation— although he wouldn’t be able to remember the words exchanged in said conversations if he tried. However that hardly bothered Sokka as he stretched lazily, opting to ignore the dull ache all over his body in favor of rolling over on his side. 

He felt a comforting weight on top of him and a soft bed underneath him that reminded him of his bed of furs back home, and apart from the persistent feeling that something wasn’t right, he was rather comfortable. At the moment Sokka was completely content on staying right where he was for a little longer. However he was only allowed about ten more minutes of rest before the odd feeling he couldn’t seem to shake successfully drove him awake. He cracked his eyes open slowly and shoved the heavy blankets off of himself before trying to sit up, but he winced and dropped back down on his back when the aforementioned dull ache became a sharp pain. 

As Sokka laid there, willing the pain to ease up, he looked around slowly— half expecting to see the familiar clutter of his igloo back home. Unfortunately, he wasn’t back in his families hut, instead he was in an odd room that was definitely bigger than his igloo. Maybe even twice the size. However— Sokka noticed that despite the size of the room there was nothing remotely personal in it, the majority of it was just unfilled space and what little there was just looked expensive and dusty. The curtains had a thin coating of dust on them, but Sokka could tell that underneath they were a deep crimson, and they were pulled back just enough to allow a bit of sunshine to spill into the room. The next thing he noted was a large, dark wardrobe made out of beautifully carved wood tucked into the corner of the room, and a desk to match sitting just a few feet away. Other than a rug on the ground, which he could just barely see the tip of from his spot on the alarmingly large bed, a bedside table, and double doors on the wall farthest from him, there really wasn’t much else and it made Sokka a little uneasy. 

Once he moved past the oddities of the room, Sokka became more aware the bandages tightly bound around his arm and head. That was strange, he didn’t remember fixing up his arm— he didn’t even really remember getting hurt in the first place. He had been sitting there for no longer than a few minutes, wracking his brain for an explanation, when he heard voices drifting in from somewhere outside the room. They were muffled and nearly impossible to understand, but Sokka swore he recognized one, if not both of them. 

So he lifted the rest of the blankets off of himself hesitantly, climbed to the edge of the bed, and hopped onto the hardwood floor. Sokka took only a second to stable himself, before looking down to asses the odd clothes he was dressed in, he was wearing black pants that were cinched at the waist- clearly too big for his scrawny frame- and a deep red tunic that only fit him slightly better than the pants did. After a quick look around, he saw his water tribe clothes stacked on a chair with his boomerang lying on top, and a tray of what looked to be tea and an assortment of strange looking fruits sitting on the bedside table not too far from his clothes. Before he could wander over and begin eating, the sounds of voices once again filled Sokkas head and he remembered what he had originally set out to do. However that didn’t stop him from dashing over to snatch the closest fruit and shove it in his mouth before he inched his way across the room to the large wooden doors. Sokka grasped the door handle and tugged on the door— struggling more than he would like to admit— until they swung open with a soft click. Now that Sokka could poke his head out into the equally large and sparsely decorated hallway, he could hear the voices clearer. It was two older men, and after just a moment of listening to the slightly muffled banter, he realized why the second mans voice sounded so familiar— Sokka finally remembered. The Fire Nation raid, the soldier, escaping onto the ship, arriving in the Fire Nation capital. Everything. He could feel tears begin to form, seemingly from nowhere, as he wiped harshly at his eyes. Not only was he somewhere far from his tribe and his family, in someone else’s home (a home in the Fire Nation of all places), and injured, but he was all on his own. Completely alone. 

Sokka sank down onto the floor, forgetting momentarily about the voices from down the hallway, and curled himself into a ball. His knees pulled up against his chest with his head resting on top, and his arms wrapped around his knees. He sat like for a while —long enough for tears to stain his cheeks and a headache to fully form— and thought about what he got himself into. 

Sokka thought about whether or not anyone noticed he was gone, if they even cared at all. He briefly wondered where the hell he was, but above all— he just thought about how much he missed his family. He sat there for a few moments more, his mind unusually blank, but eventually Sokka sighed shakily and raised his head from its spot on his knees. He wiped at his eyes and stood up, only wobbling slightly, and tried his best to remember what he was doing before. Right— the voices, he was going to listen in on whoever was speaking. After a moment of waiting silently Sokka could hear the deep voices coming from one end of the hallway again, and moved towards them, deciding it was easier to focus on doing something about his situation than just thinking about it.

As Sokka moved towards the sounds of conversation he examined the hallway a little closer. Unlike he had first thought the hallway wasn’t at all like the room he started out in. All kinds of different paintings lined the wall, portraits of unfamiliar women and men, landscapes that glowed orange with vivid depictions of sunsets—completely different from anything Sokka had seen in the South— and even a few paintings of the ocean. However, what Sokka was most curious about was the displays of swords. Between every few paintings there would be a different style of sword mounted to the wall, each one shining and sharpened to a perfect point. 

Sokka hadn’t seen many swords like the ones on the wall, many of the warriors in his tribe stuck to the traditional spear or club, so he couldn’t help but inspect each one closely. After fawning over a particularly interesting set of swords, Sokka quickly realized that he had gotten to the end of the hallway. There was a cross section where two separate hallways continued on the right and left and a slightly ajar door directly in front of him. He padded over to the door and sat down next to it, with his back to the wall, straining to hear the noises that came from inside the room. For a moment all he could hear was sporadic little clicks that sounded like wood against wood, and Sokka thought that the conversation had come to an end before he could even listen in on it.

“If what you say is true, and we cannot return the boy to his tribe, then what do you expect me to do?” The voice that Sokka couldn’t recognize said suddenly, followed by another odd click and an irritated huff.

“I do not want to decide anything before we know the boys full situation, or wether or not he will make it,” The speaker paused, “The physician said he had hit his head hard and went too long without some sort of treatment.” A few more clicks, “But I would appreciate it if you allowed him to stay here and recover. You know as well as I do that I cannot take him without raising suspicion, Piandao.”

The second man— Piandao— seemed to consider this for a moment, so the first voice continued on, “And I’m sure you can put the boy to work once the physician sees fit.” He said, tone light and joking. After a moment and one notably enthusiastic click of wood, Piandao sighed. 

“Very well, I can house him here during his recovery,” He said eventually, “I suppose I should go see if he is awake then?” 

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” The other man chuckled and Sokka suddenly realized that in the time he was listening to the men talk he had leaned closer towards the door, his head now slightly visible to the men. He squeaked and yanked himself backwards, falling away from the door as his heart pounded.

Another light laugh from the man—

“It’s alright boy,” He assured, “come in will you?” He called from inside so Sokka got to his feet slowly and approached the door, shoving it lightly so he could step into the room. Once inside he was able to get a good look at the men before him, and he recognized the one who had caught him eavesdropping as the man who he had run into the other day. He looked pretty much the same, but instead of formal red robes he had on a more causal outfit. He was sitting cross legged on a velvety cushion in front of a strange round table filled with round tiles— no bigger than a coin of silver— that had flowers carved into them. As for the second man, who had been addressed as Piandao, he was wearing similar clothing and Sokka noticed a sword in its sheath was fastened around his waist. He looked to be slightly younger, with darker hair and a much more stern expression, and he was sitting with his legs crossed similarly to the other man. 

“I don’t believe we’ve had a chance to properly introduce ourselves,” He said patting the spot next to him, but when Sokka made no move to sit next to him he continued, “You can call me Iroh, and this is a good friend of mine, Piandao.” Piandao huffed and did no more than incline his head in a subtle nod. Sokka sat there for a moment more and regarded the two men before speaking.

“Sokka..” He said, although his voice came out scratchy and low from not speaking for a while, how long had he been out, he wondered. He cleared his throat quietly and tried again, “My name is Sokka, Sir.” Despite being told to address him as Iroh, he didn’t want to risk it incase it was some sort of trick. He knew better than to trust people from the Fire Nation. Sokka shifted his weight between his feet as Iroh and Piandao watched him closely, finally Iroh clapped his hands together and smiled.

“Nice to meet you Sokka, please have a seat,” He tried again, nodding to the cushion besides him. Deciding it was best not to ignore the offer a second time Sokka shuffled over and sat down, albeit rigidly. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to speak unprompted so Iroh began questioning him—

“Do you remember how you got here, Sokka?” 

“...Yes Sir,” he replied quietly, and when Iroh just smiled at his reassuringly he continued, “M-My village was attacked.. by Fire Nation soldiers,” He said, voice wobbly, “One of them tried to- tried to kill me.. a-and,” He remembered suddenly what the man on the ship said— the water bender was taken care of quickly and efficiently.. I even took out the chief and his family— 

Sokka started shaking, breath coming in short gasps as he tried to calm himself. “They killed them,” he cried, “Katara, mom.. dad.” Beside his trembling frame Iroh and Piandao exchanged a look. Iroh placed a hand on his back, but Sokka flinched away roughly, tears now streaming down his face. 

“I-I don’t know what to do- what do I do now?!?” Sokka pleaded, “I-I can’t go home-“

“You will stay here, at least until we can figure something out,” Iroh interrupted his rambling and turned to face Sokka, shoving a steaming tea cup, that seemingly came from nowhere, into his hands. “If what the captain of the Southern Raiders said was true, then the boy certainly can’t go back,” Iroh said, more to Piandao then to Sokka. Piandao nodded and stood up, 

“I’ll have the chefs prepare something for the boy to eat,” He cast one look at Sokka, who was clutching his cup like his life depended on it, then stalked out of the room.

Iroh looked back towards Sokka as he sat there, shaking, and he reached out to him once again. This time Sokka was far too exhausted to pull away, and instead he set the cup of tea down, wiping at his eyes before speaking.

“Who even are you..?” The words left his lips before he had a chance to consider that it might offend Iroh, so he quickly backtracked before he was hurt, “N-Not to sound rude- o-or unappreciative-“ he stuttered out before Iroh could shush him,

“Don’t worry Sokka, you haven’t offended me,” he smiled and sipped on his own tea cup— which again, seemed to come from nowhere— “Although I think it’s best for now if I only tell you that I am someone who wishes to help you.” Sokka raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t ask any further questions, “Now, while we wait for dinner how about we go find you some proper fitting clothes, hm?” 

“O-Okay Sir..” Sokka nodded as he got up, waiting for Iroh to do the same before following him out of the room.

Sokka wandered around behind Iroh for a good half hour as he searched for clothes to fit Sokka, and once he did he showed him back to his room, assuring Sokka that he would be back to get him for dinner, then disappearing into the seemingly endless halls. Sokka walked over to the bed and set the stack of clothes down on it, having no interest in putting them on at the moment, then made his way over to the chair with his original clothes. He picked up the whole stack, boomerang and all, and sat down on the floor beside the bed. He stayed sitting like that, with his knees tucked up to his chest and the clothing sandwiched between his knees and chest, for a while. He didn’t know how long, nor did he care. But he sat there, not crying- not thinking- just holding onto the last bit of home he had left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Again, feel free to point out any mistakes I made or comment your opinions!! :))
> 
> —Also would you prefer shorter more frequent chapters, or longer less frequent ones?


	3. Ice Has Melted Back to Life.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka starts to think that maybe things in the Fire nation aren’t so bad :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: There are a few time skips that are going to happen in the next few chapters (hopefully it’s not confusing)), and if everything goes the way I have planned then we should see some Zuko in the next chapter!

The first week of staying in the mansion crawled by agonizingly slow for Sokka. He rarely ate, barely spoke, and spent the majority of his time in his ridiculously large room, trying to sleep off the worst of his injuries, and when he wasn’t sleeping he was doing one of two things:

Either being interrogated by Iroh—however after three attempts to get Sokka to talk, he finally realized that the kid was in no state to recount what had happened in the south, so he backed off— or being checked on by the estates medic. More often than not the only thing that kept Sokka from sleeping through the entire day was the daily check-in that Verona, the medic, never failed to show up for. At the beginning of the week she would always knock on Sokkas door politely, but usually Sokka would either ignore her or be too sleepy to call her in, so as the days went by she started to just burst in to begin her work. Verona was friendly enough, she was only eighteen, but she immediately began to care for Sokka like a little brother. Perhaps it was his poor mental state that made her sad for the boy, but regardless she wanted to help him. So she usually stuck around after the initial check in to talk to Sokka, even if the conversation was rather one sided. She got an occasional head nod or short quiet answer to her questions, but she didn’t mind. Verona always made sure to try to get Sokka to eat, as he was already looking painfully thin and not eating wasn’t helping him recover. She always made sure to be on time, wanting to try to give some normality to Sokkas days.

And so Sokka found himself sitting on his bed for his daily mandatory check-in with Verona standing in front of him, testing various things that he could care less about— at least she wasn’t making him take anymore awful medicines. She bent his arm around in ways that no longer hurt like it did earlier in the week, and then nodded to herself, satisfied with Sokkas lack of protest to her prodding.

“Now, you’re absolutely sure your head doesn’t hurt kiddo?” Verona asked, studying his face carefully. Sokka nodded mutely, moving his arm to rest in his lap. She sighed, a small frown pulling at the edges of her lips. 

“No more pain in that arm of yours?” 

Again- Sokka simply shook his head. Verona huffed and brought a hand up to ruffle his hair, and by doing so she realized that his once shaved under cut had grown out in the past week and was now sticking out oddly from under his longer hair. She smiled to herself and retracted her hand, going to ruffle through her bag of supplies while Sokka looked at her in confusion. She pulled out a small razor, the hair on the back of his head was still pretty short so it would work well enough, and she walked back over to the bed while Sokka just raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll fix your hair up for you, kiddo,” she motioned to the unruly undercut that was poorly concealed by his longer hair strands. Sokka blinked a couple of times, then brought his hand up to feel his hair and shrugged. Verona pointed to a chair in the corner of the room that was placed in front of a mirror and Sokka got up to follow her over, sitting down cross legged as she tied up his longer hair. 

While Sokka would much rather have his dad fix his hair like he always did back home, it was still nice to be able to hold onto one more thing from his old life. After all, he was no longer allowed to wear his traditional blue clothes he had on him when he arrived, something about not wanting to look “too out of place”, and so they were replaced with dull reds and blacks. And sure- Sokka was grateful for Iroh and Piandao, he was even getting used to having Verona around, but he still would rather be anywhere but the Fire Nation. 

Verona worked quietly for a while, occasionally telling Sokka to stop fidgeting, before she asked him why he had his hair cut like he did. He briefly considered not answering, but he found himself longing to talk about his home, he felt like it would bring him at least a little comfort. And so he went about explaining how it was a “warriors wolf tail”, he told her about how the men in his tribe wore them proudly, and how sometimes his mother would loop traditional beads into the strands, much like how a proper warrior would do with their own hair. However, just the mention of his mother made a sudden and painful feeling jolt through Sokkas chest, he blinked slowly for a few seconds, fighting back the sudden tears that appeared at the memories. He swallowed thickly as his hands started to shake, Verona noticed quickly and moved to place a hand on his trembling ones reassuringly.

“Your mother sounds wonderful, kiddo” she commented and Sokka nodded, just barely, “You have any siblings?” She asked, trying to rescue the boy from his own mind, if only for a moment. It seemed to do the trick because Sokkas head perked up a little.

“Y-Yeah I do,” he muttered, sniffling a little, “Her names Katara, I call her ‘Tara though,” he said eventually.

“That’s nice, so what’s she like?” Verona asked, getting back to working on his hair. Sokka considered this for a moment, before scrunching up his nose,

“Mean,” he finally decided on, “She uses her magic water on me too much,” he huffed and sunk lower into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

“But she’s my sister- and even if it’s cheating when she uses it in snowball fights- I don’t mind it too much.” He said with a fondness that made Verona smile. She was nearly done, but she prodded him to tell her more about his family and home, so he did. He talked about all the ice fishing trips his dad took him on, and he told her about going to see the new litters of polar bear dog pups from afar every spring. 

Verona listened quietly as she worked, surprised at how much he was taking, this must have been the most he had spoken at once, and she was glad. Sokka grew so animated and exited when talking about his family and home, he almost seemed like a normal nine year old boy. 

Sokka had just finished poorly explaining how to tie knots for fishing nets when Verona finished, she tied his hair back properly so they could examine her work. She wasn’t really properly equipped to work with hair— she was just a physician after all— and no one could fix his hair like his dad could, but Sokka appreciated the gesture anyway. It was a little messy around the edges, but it no longer stood out at awkward angles, and that was good enough for him. As Sokka looked at his reflection in the mirror, melancholy warred with happiness on his face, and it was an oddly unsettling expression coming from a nine year old. He eventually smiled though, and hopped out of the chair, opting to give Verona a hug. 

“You’re welcome kid,” she laughed and patted his head. “Why don’t you go to the kitchens and get a treat while I clean up, hmm?” She hummed as she moved back over to her bag. Sokka considered saying no in favor of just going back to sleep, but his stomach growled and he couldn’t remember the last time he ate, so he nodded and slipped out of the door into the hallways.

Despite having been there for a whole week at that point, Sokka hadn’t left his room nearly enough to know the grounds well, and so when he walked down the hall and came across an intersection of sorts— he didn’t really know which way to go. He had only been to the kitchen once in his entire stay, and that was on the day he first woke up in the house. So he hesitantly picked the hallway that looked most familiar and went with it.

Turns out doing that was not the brightest idea. Sokka had been confident that he could make his way to the kitchens in the beginning, but it had been at least 45 minutes since then and everything had started looking the same a while ago. Even the swords still mounted on the walls were looking far too familiar for Sokkas liking, no matter where he turned. He watched as the sun climbed in the sky through the many huge windows lining the hallway as he passed them, his hunger had only gotten worse and by now he was regretting not staying in bed.

Sokka walked around aimlessly for a while more, this time focusing on the beautifully made swords adorning the walls, he briefly considered trying to pull one down to test it out, but before he could do so he made a left turn and was faced with a completely different looking hallway. This one was much darker than the others had been, there were no windows— only the occasional torch, and it had just a singular door at the end of it. He could hear sounds coming from the other side of said door, which was new because the halls had otherwise been silent, and he found himself approaching the door slowly. Once he got to the end of the hallway he gripped the handles and pulled gently, the doors swung open softly and he poked his head in. 

Inside was a large well lit room, larger than any room Sokka had seen so far. It was mainly empty, save for a line of shelves on the side wall that contained various weapons, and the floors were lined with soft looking mats. From what Sokka could see there was a number of swords—all different style and materials, spears— just like the ones he had seen his father training with at home, and various other types of weapons he was not familiar with on the shelves. However his attention was quickly turned from the impressive collection of weaponry to the person in the middle of the room. Sokka couldn’t tell who it was yet, as they had their back facing him, but he could tell that they knew what they were doing. The person attacked what looked to be a training dummy, swinging their sword with graceful power. Their movements were smooth and calculated—and loaded with deadly precision— and yet they seemed to almost be at peace as they hacked away. 

Sokka watched them stalk around the dummy as they struck it for a moment, mesmerized by their actions, before quietly slipping into the room, hiding behind a small stand of training dummies much like the one the man was practicing on now. As Sokka sat there the man spun around so he was facing towards Sokka, although he was still focused on his movements so he didn’t notice the boy, and when he was able to see the mans face somewhat clearly he could tell that it was Piandao. Sokka stared in awe, he had no idea that the same man who came off so impassive could be so intriguing to watch. He wondered how he had gotten so good at it, and for a moment he wondered if he would teach him.

This continued on for a while, Sokka would sneak from his room every so often and wander around until he came to that same hallway. He would slip inside the room and hide behind anything that would block him from view, and watch Piandao for what seemed like hours. More often than not Sokka would return to his room and try to recreate the movements he could remember, he almost always ended up falling flat on his face, but it was the most fun he had in a long while. This went on for two more weeks, the days passing far easier now that he had something to do other than lay in his bed with his thoughts. 

Although Sokkas trips to the training room didn’t go unnoticed forever. It was late in the evening when he had made his way to the room, and everything went how it had the previous days- Sokka snuck into the training area and sat down behind a rack of dummies, watching as Piandao moved through the now familiar forms. However after a while of watching Piandao stopped his swings suddenly, turning around quickly to look directly at Sokka. He gasped and pulled his head back behind the rack and out of sight, slapping a hand over his mouth as he heard footsteps approach him. 

“Get out here boy.” Piandao demanded, his voice cold. Sokka sat there for a second, debating whether he should make a dash for the door or not. Before he could make a decision however, Piandao stepped behind the rack, positioning himself between Sokka and the door. 

“S-Sorry Sir-“ Sokka squeaked as he tried to make his way around the older man and to the door, but Piandao reaches out a hand, stopping him. Sokka gulped.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed, boy?” He asked suspiciously.

“I-I suppose so..” Sokka mumbled, Piandao just raised his eyebrow.

“Then what are you doing here?” He lowered his arm and crossed them across his chest, staring down at Sokka while he waited for an answer.

“I-I just wanted to watch you train Sir, I didn’t mean any harm..” He blinked at the ground, resisting the urge to flinch away from the mans hard gaze.

“Verona was right then, huh..” Piandao muttered to himself. Sokka looked up at him for the first time that night, eyes wide in surprise. That made Piandao chuckle, 

“You’re not as sneaky as you think boy, Verona has noticed that you’d been disappearing somewhere every evening,” He said as he moved away from Sokka, back to the middle of the room. Sokka ignored the fact that he had been straight up caught and followed him, deciding to ask the question he’d had for so long, 

“Master Piandao,” Sokka had heard Verona and the few servants he had refer to him as such, so it couldn’t hurt his chances, “Would you- I was wondering if you would be willing to train me.” Sokka managed with only a slight waver in his voice. Piandao turned to study him with an odd look, before turning away dismissively. 

“You’re supposed to be on bed rest, you’re injured boy,” he said as he placed his sword back in the rack for the day. Sokka frowned, he was upset about getting caught watching and he at least wanted to get something out of it, so he pushed on,

“Actually Sir-“ Piandao raises an eyebrow at him, “Verona said I’m doing much better, she said I can start doing things like normal,” He didn’t quite lie, he just told the half truth. Verona did indeed say he was much better, but she didn’t go as far as to say to continue on as normal. But Piandao didn’t know that. At least Sokka hoped he didn’t. And if the older man knew that Sokka was lying, he didn’t mention it,

“Hmm,” he eyed Sokka for a short moment before shaking his head, “Even if you’re doing better, you’re still far too young,” he stated simply. Sokka huffed, that wasn’t fair at all, he was nearly ten years old.

“Well how old were you when you started training?” Sokka wasn’t going to back down yet. Piandao pondered this for a moment, before he replied,

“About your age, maybe a bit younger,” He walked from the weapons rack to the door, but he paused before he left. Sokka began to argue about how unfair that was, but he was promptly cut off, 

“If you really want to be trained, then you will meet me here every day just after midday, understood?” He stated more than asked, not bothering to glance at Sokka before he swept out of the room. Sokka sat there for a second, processing what the man had just said, before his eyes lit up with excitement. Sokka ran from the room, eager to get to sleep so he could begin his training the next day.

Soon enough midday came and Sokka started training, and it was nothing like he had thought it would be. Piandao was harsh on him, and by the end of the day his muscles ached and his head pounded slightly— and he hadn’t even gotten to use a proper sword yet— but it was worth it.

And so that became his new routine. Sokka would get up, usually search out breakfast on his own before Verona stopped by for the day, then he would meet Piandao for training sessions until dinner. Occasionally Iroh would stop by and watch the lessons before going off to discuss whatever boring things adults talk about. Although, these sparse visits from Iroh was how Sokka had found out about Irohs nephew, he had heard the two men whispering about him while putting up his training sword. Sokka noticed that they referred to him as “Prince Zuko”, and that set Sokka on edge. Prince of what— he wondered. Iroh had yet to tell Sokka that he was the brother of the Fire lord of all people, so Sokka had no clue why Zuko was called a prince— or why he was brought up in the first place really. But to be honest- he didn’t really care, he had more important things to focus on at the moment. Like his training and the new outdoor meetings with Verona— Once Verona found out about Sokkas unauthorized training, it didn’t take very long, she figured that if he could train with Piandao- then he could at least start getting some time outside. 

And so they started meeting in the mansions large rock gardens. They often brought breakfast out there and she let Sokka show her all the new forms he learned the day prior. He often told her stories about whatever her could remember from his life in the South Pole, and she eventually told him that she was originally from the Earth Kingdom. As soon as she did so, Sokka immediately grew interested, so she started telling him all sorts of stories from her life. She told him all about how she trained with herbalists so she could become a physician. She recounted stories of her days as a traveling healer, how she would go from village to village helping whoever she could. She told him how she had started to work with Piandao at the mansion, and countless other stories. However the more Verona told Sokka about life in the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom, the more he wanted to know. Information about the world was so limited in his small village in the south, so he couldn’t help but be curious. And after a while of retelling the same stories to Sokka, Verona caved and showed him to the large library the mansion housed, so he could learn things that weren’t limited to her own experiences. She could tell he was a very smart kid, and she wanted him to have every opportunity he could. 

Thus the library also became a regular part of Sokkas day, quickly turning into one of his favorite places. More and more often Sokka would miss the beginning of his training sessions and Piandao would have to get him from the library so they could begin, but after a while, he didn’t seem to mind- he almost seemed glad to see Sokka so immersed in any book he could get his hands on. Sometimes Sokka would stop by the library after training too, and he would fall asleep after many hours in between the large shelves, with opened books abandoned besides him. 

With such a tiring routine to keep him busy all day, Sokka had very little time to think about how much he missed his family, in fact- He actually started to enjoy his time with Verona and Piandao, and that made the days pass quickly. And before he knew it he was turning ten. He had told Verona when his birthday was for whatever reason, not expecting her to do anything with that information, but surprisingly, she did. Without Sokkas knowledge she had convinced Piandao to let her take Sokka out of the mansion and into town, there was an especially popular market open the weekend of his birthday and she wanted to take him down there so he could explore. After promising that he would wear a hood to hide his bright blue and “obviously not Fire Nation” eyes, as Piandao put it, and guaranteeing that Sokka would stay by her side the entire time, he finally acquiesced. 

So after Sokka finished with breakfast they headed down into town to enjoy the day. The market was quite impressive to him, he had never really gone to one before, as his tribe was very small and had the mentality of “what’s mine is yours”, so to say he was excited about getting to look around was an understatement. It was packed full of people, and almost everything caught Sokkas attention. He bounced around from stall to stall, making sure to keep his eyes obscured by his hood as he did so.

“Hey kiddo, what do ya say about trying some fire flakes?” Verona asked, grinning. Sokka nodded enthusiastically, he had no clue what those were but they sure did sound cool. Verona weaved her way through the crowd, with Sokka in tow, and they eventually stopped at quaint little stand. She picked up a small box of bright red flakes from the stand, paying the woman, before pulling Sokka off to the side to eat the treat.

“Now you gotta be careful Kiddo,” she warned, “these are super spicy.” She picked up a handful and popped the in her mouth before angling the box down to Sokka.

“Oh c’monnn,” Sokka complained, “I’m sure I can handle them.” He plucked up a few and eyed then suspiciously before shoving them all into his mouth. He felt the spice almost immediately and he hopped around as they burned his mouth. Verona snorted out a laugh and placed a hand on Sokkas shoulder, motioning for him to sit down.

“I’ll go get you some water, Kid. Stay here alright?” Sokka nodded profusely so she ruffled his hair and disappeared into the crowd. After the initial wave of spice died down Sokka felt like he could feel his tongue again, so he stood from his spot and looked back out at the market, trying to spot Verona. He didn’t see her, but his vision caught in something else however. There was a small stand tucked in between two bigger food stands, it was barely noticeable, but what caught Sokkas eye was the beautiful sword that was stood up in a rack in front of the stand. He weaved through the crowd, making his way over to the sword, once he reached the stand he examined it closely. It was a pleasant black color, with an almost blue shine to it, and the hilt was a startling silver, that shined brightly in the sun. He didn’t know what it was about that sword but it felt as though it were calling to him. Even though Piandao hadn’t allowed Sokka to use a proper sword yet, he would be able to use one eventually right? He was in the middle of reaching towards the glimmering hilt when a hand snatched his wrist, startling a gasp from him.

“Sokka! There you are-“ Verona scolded, “I told you not to move kid.” She released her grip from his arm and scowled at him. “You scared the spirits out of me!”

“S-Sorry Verona..” Sokka said sheepishly, looking at his feet. Verona sighed and patted his head, “It’s okay kid- just don’t do that again.” He nodded quickly, assuring it wouldn’t happen anymore. Once that was settled Verona turned her attention to the sword displayed in front of them.

“Oh wow Sokka, you’ve got a good eye don’t you?” She said looking it over, Sokka just nodded. Verona smiled widely, “You want it? It’ll be your birthday present.” She made eye contact with the owner of the stall and waved him over. Sokka shook his head though, 

“No Verona it’s fine, really, a sword like this is probably expensive,” He said and Verona scoffed, “a-and I cant event use a sword yet!” He continued,

“Don’t be silly kiddo, it’ll be my treat. And just because you can’t use it now doesn’t mean you’ll never be able to,” She grinned at Sokka and pointed out the sword to the shop owner, placing a small pouch of money down, 

“You have a good eye for swords little boy,” the shop owner hummed as he accepted the money, wrapping the sword for them, “This one is special, it’ll be perfect for you I’m sure.” He smiled at them kindly and handed it over to Verona, she took it with a “Thanks,” and they were on their way.

Not long after they decided to call it a day and head back up to the mansion, where they had dinner together in the rock gardens. Sokka left his new sword in the training room, thanking Verona and Piandao profusely, before heading to bed. As Sokka sat there that night, staring up at the ceiling, replaying the day in his head, he decided that maybe everything wasn’t so dark and terrible in the Fire Nation like he once thought. 

Maybe he could still be happy after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like writing this chapter cause one of my A:TLA OCs got to appear in it :))
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!!!!!!! Feel free to comment if you’d like and thank you for reading <3


	4. I Am Not Your Protagonist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for uploading this chapter so late, I got really caught up in school work and then decided I didn’t like the finished product so I scrapped it and started a new one ahaha :^) 
> 
> At least you get more Zuko a little earlier than I intended! ! ! !
> 
> And this chapter might be a little confusing so I’m just going to clear this up real quick- this chapter takes place about a year after the last one, both Zuko and Sokka are 11 (and ik canonically Zuko is a year older than Sokka, but for this story he is only like 5 months older, so they are both 11)) and it is a Zuko POV of his mother’s “disappearance” and how he ends up with Piandao, and then eventually meets Sokka. 
> 
> And Sokka has just been vibing with Piandao and Verona, practicing with his swords and getting in trouble as one does :))
> 
> Now I tried to make this as close to the timeline in the show where I needed it to be- but if you notice any holes in the timeline (or mistakes in general) please let me know!!
> 
> Sorry again for it being so late and enjoy!! <333

Things were different. Zuko could feel it in the way the palaces servants held their heads a little lower. He could feel it in the way his mother’s eyes were soft with sympathy and sorrow. He could feel it the same way he could feel the electricity in the air before a storm. Except this feeling wasn’t electric— it was weighted and anxious. 

Iroh’s return from Ba Sing Se was supposed to make things better. Zuko always liked his uncle. He was so bright and kind, and even though he didn’t make sense half the time, he never failed to cheer Zuko up. Whether that be by fixing him some tea and taking a walk out to the turtle duck pond when his mother couldn’t, or agreeing to spar when he was feeling down about his fire bending progress. Regardless of what they were doing, Zuko enjoyed the time spent with Uncle. 

But Uncle didn’t return the same— before he left his eyes used to always be crinkled around the edges with a permanent smile, but now? Now his eyes were clouded, they were blanketed in something heavy, something Zuko couldn’t quite place. He had asked Iroh about it shorty after he came home, but his uncle simply smiled at him sadly and promised he’d explain it later. Unsatisfied with that answer, Zuko asked his mother about it but she just wore the same melancholy smile and ruffled his hair, telling him that Uncle Iroh was just missing his son. And that was another thing that was different following Uncle Irohs return. Lu Ten did not return with him, and despite his mother reading the letter that confirmed his cousins death to him, Zuko didn’t quite realize until his uncle came back, cold and hollow, and alone. 

When Azula overheard Zuko asking his mother about Iroh, she only chimed in saying that uncle was ashamed of his loss at Ba Sing Se. She would dance around him and declare how weak their uncle was and it drove Zuko insane, although that was probably the appeal. He eventually went to find his mother and told on Azula, feeling rather accomplished when she got scolded and sent to her room for disrespecting her uncle. 

Although Zuko couldn’t ignore the fact that Azula was partially right, Iroh had lost Ba Sing Se- on top of his sons death- and Zuko was starting to understand just why his uncle came back so different. And so Zuko tried to be there for his uncle as best he could. He would get the servants help with brewing tea and he would bring it to Iroh in his room, just as Iroh had once done for him. They would sit there and drink the tea, often in silence, and he noticed after a while his uncle started to get a little lighter as the days went on. In fact they were in the middle of one of their meetings, Iroh was telling some story from his youth— finally saying more than just a few words at a time—, when his mother knocked on the door lightly, Azula hanging by her feet.

“Hello Iroh,” she nodded her head politely, but the formality was cut short by the soft smile on her lips, “I hate to interrupt but Azulon has requested a meeting for us,”

“We were just finishing up here Ursa dear,” Iroh nodded, shooing Zuko along, “Go get ready nephew.” 

Zuko stood up, bowed politely, and turned to follow after his mother and sister. He couldn’t help but feel a nervous tension build in the little trio as they walked, stopping only so Zuko could dress in appropriate clothing. They arrived at the throne room and dropped onto their knees beside Ozai silently. Zuko couldn’t help but glance around nervously as the uncomfortable heat from the flames of the throne made sweat gather on the back of his neck. Meetings with grandfather were never a good thing, they always filled him with anxious energy that he couldn’t get out until after they had been dismissed.

Yet again Azula had proved her skills to grandfather and Zuko had just embarrassed himself. However he wasn’t bothered too much by the unimpressed looks from grandfather, the looks of poorly concealed hatred his father directed at him were far worse. And despite how much he tried he couldn’t ignore the way his father looked at Azula, his eyes filled with pride and greed, it was disgustingly obvious who he favored— 

But before he could dwell on that train of thought too much they were being dismissed and his fathers face grew serious as he requested to speak privately with Azulon. Zuko hurried towards the door, trailing after his mother, until Azula yanked him into the curtains draped around the room.

“Azula!” He whispered angrily as she tugged him along, “what are you doing?!”

She just smiled sharply and placed a finger to her lips as she crouched down to peak through a gap in the fabrics. They sat there for a moment, listening to the two adults talk, and Zuko couldn’t believe what his father was suggesting. He stared into the room, mouth hanging open slightly— had his father really suggested that he take uncles place as immediate heir to the throne?— below him Azula chuckled at the scene in front of them and Zuko swatted her on the head, to which she flicked his hand away with a small flame. Zuko was about to complain and he could tell that Azula was ready to argue, when the flames surrounding the throne grew considerably, spreading a throbbing heat throughout the room. The shock of it sent Zuko backwards and as soon as he regained his footing he darted from behind the curtains to the door, ignoring as Azula cackled behind him. He couldn’t get out of the throne room fast enough. He desperately wanted his mother, but had no idea where to find her, and he couldn’t go to Iroh— not with the weight of that conversation on his shoulders— so he opted to slip back into his room and change into his sleepwear, curling up in his bed.

Zuko dreamed of the throne room that night, of unrestrained fire that spilled into the hallways, burning greedily as it spread through the palace. He pictured Azula just out of harms way, with a deranged look on her face, laughing— although he couldn’t tell what she was laughing at. He sprinted through the burning hallways, avoiding the flames and debris as he went, looking for his mother. But when he found her she was just out of reach, a crackling wall of fire separated them— eating at the tapestries and paintings in the walls of the palace hungrily. he shouted for her but smoke filled his lungs, threatening to choke him completely, however that didn’t stop him. His shouts soon became desperate sobs as he reached for his mother, the fire was getting too close to her— she would burn if he didn’t save her soon. But he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried he could bend the fire away from her, he couldn’t bend the fire at all. In that moment all he could hear was his fathers voice, echoing in the abrupt silence—

“Lucky to be born”

He could feel more that see his fathers cruel eye on him, watching with disdain as he failed to produce a flame. He couldn’t take it anymore, the air was more smoke than oxygen and he felt the edges of his vision start to fade black, so he ran. He turned from his mother, from his fathers harsh words, and he ran.

“Zuko!” He heard Ursa cry from behind him, a desperate and broken sound.

“Zuko!” He could hear his fathers voice now, harsh and filled with spite for his weak firstborn.

“ZUKO!” A harsh slap across his face drove him awake, gasping for air— that was thankfully not tainted with smoke— He looked around the room as the dream faded, his eyes coming to rest on Azula who sat at the edge of his bed. Her eyes were wide with fear— which was strange as it was— but along with the fear there was concern. Her features were contorted with uncertainty, and Zuko swore he had never seen that look on his sisters face. However, After seeing Zuko up and looking around, the sharp look of unease faded to a look of relief. But just as sudden as those emotions showed, they disappeared, replaced by a sudden smugness that fit his sister much better than the expressions before.

“What do you want Azula,” Zuko muttered, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and inhaling deeply to get the smell of imaginary smoke out of his nose. Azula hopped off his bed and twirled around to the foot of it, smiling wickedly— any trace of emotion fit for a girl her age hidden behind a cruel mask—

“Father is going to kill you~” She hummed as she picked at a loose thread on his blanket, completely ignoring the fact that Zuko had gone deathly still. Ice flooded through his veins as she gripped his sheets, his knuckles turning white.

Zuko let out a low laugh with no humor.

“Nice try Azula” he grit through his teeth, trying desperately to get his breathing back under control.

“No really-“ she paused for effect, her grin growing steadily, “He is.” She walked from the bed, “Grandfather said dad’s punishment should fit his crime— You must know the pain of losing a first born son” she imitated in a deep voice.

Zuko shoved the covers off him, the comfortable head they once provided suddenly far too much for him to handle.

“You’re lying” he said, stressing the last word harshly, “dad would never do that to me”

“I’m only telling you for you own good” she said sweetly, feigning innocence, “maybe you could find a nice earth kingdom family to adopt you,” she blinked at him with fake sympathy.

“Dad would never do that to me-“ Zuko repeated, but even he could he the wobble in his voice.

“Your father would never do what to you?” The new voice made both children jump, Zuko looked to the doorway to see Ursa and Uncle Iroh standing in the door. “What is going on here?” His mother demanded.

“I don’t know” His sister cocked her head innocently, but Ursa saw through it. 

“Come here young lady, it’s time for a talk.” She grabbed Azulas arm and ushered her towards the door, exchanging looks with Iroh as she left. Iroh nodded and turned to Zuko, smiling kindly.

“Are you alright nephew?” He went and sat in the edge of his bed.

Zuko just drew his knees up to his chest and shook his head, shuddering. He really didn’t want to believe that Ozai would kill him like Azula said, but Zuko wouldn’t put it past him. He knew that his father disliked him, at times the disdain he had for his son was palpable, but Zuko was still desperate to believe that he wouldn’t go as far as to kill him. He might not have been a prodigy like Azula, but that wasn’t worth dying over— was it?

“What did Azula tell you nephew?” Iroh asked in a soft voice, resting his hand on Zukos shoulder. Zuko just shook his head and hugged his knees tighter, if he said it out loud then that would make it real, and Zuko wanted to hold onto the hope that it was just another cruel trick for as long as possible. Luckily his mother came back into the room before Iroh could push for more.

“Iroh.” She said and Zuko looked up, her voice was heavy with anger, it was a tone he had only heard a few times from his usually placid mother. Uncle seemed to notice this as well because his calm face turned dark, he gave Zuko’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze and slipped off the bed, following Ursa as she stormed from the room.

Zuko sat there on the bed, feeling ill. There was no doubt that Ozai was really planning to kill him now. His mother only got so angry when Ozai yelled at or belittled Zuko, and if Azula was lying about this whole thing Ursa would scold her and come in to assure Zuko that he would be fine. But she didn’t. And now Zuko really thought he was going to be sick. He flopped down on his bed and curled himself into a tight ball, he didn’t want to fall back asleep— for fear of falling into another nightmare— but he didn’t want to stay awake and deal with the horrifying knowledge of what might happen to him. He could only think of how much he wanted his mother as he failed to fight the sleepiness growing in him, but eventually his eyes slipped closed and he fell into a, thankfully, dreamless sleep.

Ursa sat across from Iroh in the dim light of his room. She had sent Azula to bed after forcing an explanation out of her and now she needed a plan. Her children were the only thing in the entirety of Caldera that she loved. She would protect them from that monster of a man at all costs. 

Ursa had already relayed everything her daughter had told her to Iroh, the only person other than herself in the spirits damned palace who cared for Zuko, and she knew that he would help her protect her son. He had to.

“I would not put it past my brother to comply with such an order,” He said slowly, looking at the low table they sat at. 

Ursa scoffed, “I figured, Ozai will take any chance he can get to harm my son,” She squeezed her hands into fists, betrayed at how her voice trembled. 

“How can I save him Iroh..” She whispered desperately. Iroh finally looked up from his hands, a tormented look on his face. Ursa knew it was selfish to come to Iroh with this right after the death of his own son, but she had no other ideas. 

No other ideas but one. Although Ursa desperately wished Iroh could come up with something else, something that didn’t come with so many risks, but it seemed that Iroh was at a loss. He knew that Azulon would not take back his punishment, and Ozai was more that happy to comply. So it seemed like this was her last resort, her only chance to save the most precious thing left to her. And by the time that Iroh had apologized profusely and excused himself from the room, Ursa knew what she had to do. 

Ursa sat on her bed, a small bag of belongings rested on her lap. Despite it only containing a few articles of clothes, a small bag of coins, and a map, it felt as though it weighed more than a platypus-bear. She supposed the extra weight came from the dread that went along with the reason it was packed. Ursa sighed and wiped harshly at the tears gathered on her eyelashes, she had one more thing to do before she could say goodbye to her children. She stood from the bed and made her way back to Irohs quarters, knowing that it was likely that Ozai would not keep his promise not to harm Zuko, despite the fact that Azulon was no longer around. If anything he was more likely make her sons life hell without Ursa there to stop him and take the brunt of Ozai’s temper. So she had one more favor to ask of Iroh.

“Ursa? What is it that you need so late?” Iroh quirked a brow at her once she arrived at his room, although she didn’t feel bad about the time— she knew that he wasn’t sleeping. Ursa sighed shakily and forced a small smile as she spoke.

“I need to ask a favor, Iroh,” she fidgeted with her bag, and if Iroh noticed he didn’t ask, “I’ve heard word of a sword master, Piandao is the name if I’m correct,”

Iroh nodded, “I am familiar with him, yes.”

“I want to have Zuko trained under him, I-“ she paused, blinking roughly before continuing, “I have to leave the palace, I can’t stay here, and I need to make sure that Zuko won’t be victim of my husbands wrath when I’m gone.” 

Iroh furrowed his brow in confusion, clearly going to question her, but Ursa pushed on.

“Will you please take Zuko to his estate to stay there for lessons?” She asked as firmly as she could. Iroh hesitated, thinking over the odd request, but he nodded. 

“I will Ursa,” he said cautiously, “But-“ he began, however she cut him off again, her time was running short. 

“I’ve made a deal with him,” she whispered, closing her eyes, “Zukos life is no longer in danger- but I fear that with me gone, no one will be there to stop Ozai from finding different— more permanent ways to harm him.” Ursa opened her eyes and slowly looked at Iroh, she saw a grim understanding in his eyes as he nodded. 

“I will make sure he gets to Piandao, I will tell Ozai that it is for training purposes and training purposes only.” Ursa let out a sigh of relief, her shoulders sagging a little.

“Thank you so much Iroh,” she turned to head towards her children’s rooms but stopped, “I’m very sorry to leave this for you to deal with after everything that happened at Ba Sing Se-“ she began, but Iroh cut her short,

“Nonsense- I’ve failed to protect my son. But I will not fail to protect yours, Ursa.” He nodded to her, the slightest sign of tears in his eyes, and before she could stop herself Ursa was wrapping him in a hug to which Iroh returned with enthusiasm. 

“Be safe,” was all he said as she left to say goodbye to her children.

For the second time that night Zuko was woken from his sleep, however this time it was by a gentle hand stroking his cheek. He blinked his eyes open to see his mother sat on his bed, eyes shiny with unshed tears, her hand was trembling against his face. He sat up, alarm immediately chasing away any drowsiness that lingered.

“Mother..?” He asked, fighting a yawn.

“Zuko, my love, listen to me please” Ursa whispered, her voice shaking ever so slightly, “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done to protect you,” she said, pushing some loose hair being his ears. She gently wrapped him in a hug, kissing his forehead. 

“Remember this Zuko, no matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are,” She said, getting up from her spot to head towards the door, only stopping when Zuko grabbed her arm,

“Where are you going mother?” he asked, but Ursa just put on a pained smile and placed her hand over Zuko’s, removing it gently. She gave him one more kiss on the top of his head, then disappeared back into the hallway.

Zuko sat in his bed, his head swam with thoughts and questions, he wanted to go after his mother— ask her what she was talking about— but all he could do was lay back down and stare at the crimson ceiling. A heavy feeling of dread washed over him, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t figure out why. Despite the inclination to get up and find his mother and the lingering confusion from her words, sleep quickly came back to Zuko and he drifted off.

Zuko woke to sun streaming through his curtains, bathing the room in delicate light. He rubbed at his eyes sleepily, about to roll over and try to enjoy the feeling of the sun on his back, but before he could even close his eyes the memory of the previous night came rushing back. Zuko’s eyes snapped open as he sat up, shoving the blanket off of himself.

“Mom?” He called out into the empty room. Before he could even bother with changing out of his night clothes he sprinted through his doors, making a beeline for his mother’s room. Although before he could make it very far from his own room he caught sight of Azula leaning against one of the many large pillars that lined the palace corridors.

“Where’s mom?” Zuko demanded as he turned to face his sister, already fearing the worst.

“No one knows,” she replied as if it were no big deal, although Zuko could tell that there was something off about her. If he hadn’t spent the majority of his life listening to his sisters cruel and mocking tone, he wouldn’t have been able to identify the sliver of uncertainty hidden under her facade. Unfortunately though, he could tell that something was bothering Azula and that just made his anxieties worse.

“She disappeared sometime last night, around the same time that Grandfather passed away” she sniffed disinterestedly, twirling Zuko’s knife around in her hand, but he could hardly be bothered by that now. 

Mother was gone and grandfather was dead. How could that be? Their mother had said that he was perfectly healthy just a few days ago-

And his mother would never leave him so suddenly, without so much of a goodbye, would she?

Zuko inhaled lightly, swaying unsteadily on his feet. She had said goodbye though, hadn’t she. As if a fog on Zukos mind was clearing, he finally understood his mother’s words. Last night she was saying goodbye for the last time. He couldn’t believe he had been so foolish, he hadn’t even tried to stop her from leaving him— before his mind could wander too far down that particular path, Azula spoke up again.

“Oh- and uncle says he would like for you to meet him in his room for tea,” she twisted her lips up in a sardonic grin once she noticed Zuko’s face pale even further. She tossed the knife at him and turned on her heel, disappearing down the hallway without another word. Which unfortunately left Zuko alone to process everything that had changed in such a comically short time while he made his way to his uncle’s chambers.

Once Zuko arrived at Iroh’s room he knocked on the door softly, feeling alarmingly numb to the world around him. Iroh answered shortly after, holding to door open and gesturing to a steaming pot of tea and a platter of breakfast pastries set up on a low table. Zuko took a seat and stared down at the swirled patterns of the wooden tabletop, unsure of how to have the inevitable conversation.

“How are you feeling Zuko?” Iroh asked gently, eyeing him cautiously as he sipped from his cup. Zuko opened his mouth to respond, but clicked it shut when a trembling sob threatened to come out instead of a coherent sentence. Iroh seemed to understand and so he pushed on with the rather one sided conversation.

“I’m sure you’re already aware that your mother-“ he started, but Zuko cut him short,

“Where,” he whispered through grit teeth, “where did she go? Why did she leave- w-why would she leave me?” Zuko muttered through the shake in his voice, every question in his head threatening to spill out.

“I’m afraid no one knows where she is, dear nephew,” Iroh replied solemnly, mirroring Azulas words from earlier in the hallway. He hesitated on answering the second portion of Zukos distressed questioning, he didn’t have a clue how to answer it, however Zuko wasn’t going to let it go.

“Why did she leave me.” He repeated, his voice filled with far too much hurt and betrayal then any eleven year old should have to carry. Just the sight of Zuko sat there, hands wrapped tightly on his teacup and trembling, made Iroh’s heart break. For a brief moment it reminded him of Lu Ten— sitting in the generals tent, shaking with rage and guilt after they lost an entire division of men. 

—

“We told them not to send those men in” he had said, his temper winning over the guilt at that moment, “And they did anyway- why would they send them in father?! They were hardly trained,” When his son looked up at him, his eyes were filled with confusion, betrayal, and guilt. Perfectly mirroring his nephews eyes now. At that moment Iroh remembered Ursa’s final request— get Zuko somewhere far away from Ozai’s wrath. Despite not being able to protect his own son, Iroh had made a promise to shield Ursa’s. And he would do anything to honor that promise.

“Oh nephew,” Iroh reached a hand to rest on Zuko’s shoulder, “I do not know why she left, but it was not her choice” despite the fact that Ursa never told him the exact reason she was leaving, he had a strong feeling it was his brothers doing. 

“She loved you more than anything nephew, and she’ll always be with you.” He assured as best he could. Zuko sniffled and nodded, staying stiff in his spot. After a moment more of heavy silence, Iroh decided that they could not waste anymore time, they had to get going if they wanted to arrive at Piandao’s manner by sunset. He lifted himself off the cushion and held out a hand to help Zuko up, who looked at him quizzically.

“I know this is quite sudden nephew, but you’re going to be taking a trip of sorts,” 

“A trip? Are we going to Ember Island?” Zuko asked, perking up ever so slightly, at that Iroh chuckled.

“No, not Ember Island,” he replied as he made his way from the room, gesturing for Zuko to follow, “You are going to stay with an old friend of mine,” he held up a finger to quiet whatever question Zuko was preparing to voice, 

“There you will be taught the way of the sword.” That sufficiently piqued his nephew’s interest.

“I’m going to learn to sword fight?” He asked, bouncing up on the ball of his foot as he walked, the heavy tension of the conversation earlier momentarily forgotten.

“Yes nephew, yes you will, but you also must learn the patience and discipline that accompanies practicing with a sword,” Iroh replied, barely hiding a smile at Zuko’s childish pout.

“Now go on,” He shooed Zuko back towards his room, “go ahead and start packing, I have a few things I need to take care of before we can depart.” Zuko didn’t need to be told twice as he dashed through the halls to his room, ignoring the aggravated calls from the servants he passed.

Iroh watched him go fondly, but as soon as he turned on his heel to make his way through the palace, there was an unpleasant dread that settled in his chest.

He had to go make sure a certain soon-to-be Fire Lord wouldn’t get in the way of him protecting his nephew— no matter the cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be Zuko and Sokka meeting!! I can’t wait to write all the trouble they’ll get in together!! From now it’ll probably be alternative POV’s, but I’m not sure yet. Leave a comment if you have a moment or if you have any questions, and thank you for reading!!! <33


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